I, Podius

I have an iPod. He's been a lovely companion for me. I call it by the pronoun 'he' only because of his personality. I named him MusicBob, which might imply male, but he is quick to remind me that I chose MusicBob as a the bob of the phrase 'thing-a-ma-bob' not the Bob that's derivative of Robert.

MusicBob has been with me a couple months now. Since April. He was my gift from the federal government. They sent me a piece of paper for paying them money, and that piece of paper was worth a certain amount, and I walked into a nice shiny Apple store. I handed the overly effeminite man a good share of the amount on that paper from my distant Uncle Sam, and he handed me a beautiful shiny box that held the unawakened thing that is now MusicBob.

MusicBob holds 80 GB. At the time, he was the biggest and the bestest. They've made the iPods hold more, but those new ones strike me as kind of … flimsy. Just the construction. So I'm pleased. And okay that I paid $100 than I would for something as big as MusicBob today.

MusicBob doesn't wear any sort of armor. He's exposed to the elements. His screen is still nice, and his white surface is beautiful. His metal back, however, is scratched and pitted and will never even remotely be reflective ever again. MusicBob is okay with that. MusicBob is hardcore.

How hardcore? MusicBob flaunts death at every turn. Normally he rides quite comfortably in my pocket, but whenever I take him out? Unless I'm sitting still, he's going to fall from some height or be flung into some hard surface. I've dropped him onto concrete, asphalt, dirt, snow, and ice. I've flung him into televisions, walls, ceramic tiles, and computers. He leaps off beds and tables at the least provocation, no parachute or safety line. He's just that kind of guy. My little adrenaline junkie.

Hasn't broken a thing yet! Good thing, too, since he's so quick to find something to smash into. For a while, after a particularly hard fall where I forgot I was wearing headphones and flung him nearly 10 feet, his Hold switch was a little loose for a while, but he's healed (by magic or something) and he's fine now. He just gets a little scratched on the back, and carries on.

He's a wonderful companion because he knows me so well. Maybe I've just imbued him with my spirit, or perhaps Apple have build iPods to be magically all-knowing, but MusicBob is very skillful. When I put him on random, invariably he suits music perfect to my mood. It's pretty scary how expertly he'll throw things together. He can even follow conversations, sometimes, bringing in the right song at the right time to perfectly underline or counterpoint the discussion.

And he keeps me sane. I drag him around, making him perform, like my own travelling bard. But he never complains (save once or twice when I didn't feed him and he put up a pretty big fuss by refusing to even talk to me) and he's always reliable. Worth every penny. A pittance for the current-tasties, and considering he's working at least 6 hours a day, every day? I'm in the free and clear, so far as I'm concerned.

I'm writing this mostly because he's awesome. And he deserves the acknowledgement. He fights the good fight, and he does it beautifully. Nobody else is going to thank him, so I'll have to do it.

MusicBob, you're the greatest!